


Time Well Spent

by crackinthecup



Series: Ends and Beginnings [12]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anal Sex, Hand Jobs, I think this is the most light-hearted angbang piece I've ever written, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:34:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22884847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crackinthecup/pseuds/crackinthecup
Summary: Mairon needs to get back to work. Melkor has entirely different things in mind.
Relationships: Morgoth Bauglir | Melkor/Sauron | Mairon
Series: Ends and Beginnings [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2112774
Comments: 6
Kudos: 80





	Time Well Spent

The bruise mottled across Mairon’s skin like crushed autumn leaves. He stared at it in the mirror, lulled into quiet contemplation by the distant sounds of Angband’s denizens going about their lives. He couldn’t remember how this particular bruise had got there even though only a few short hours had passed since then. He had been screaming, he knew that much; tears had fallen down his cheeks, soaking into the pillows, as the whip had struck him over and over and over and _over_ – until the pain of it had started to feel electric, ecstatic, until he had arched his hips _into_ each blow and the perverse pleasure of it had felt, for once, entirely right.  
  
“I should whip you again,” Melkor said conversationally from where he was sprawled among the pillows in his bed, watching Mairon as he examined himself in the mirror.  
  
Mairon turned, a slow, secret smile on his lips. “I need to be able to sit down, my lord.”  
  
Melkor’s gaze darkened with lust. He moved to kneel up on the bed, reaching for Mairon and drawing him close by the hips. “Not if I have you on your back all day.”  
  
Mairon chuckled, low, inviting, teasing. He wound his fingers in Melkor’s hair and tugged, hard. “I have meetings.”  
  
“Cancel them.”  
  
“I have meetings with _you_.”  
  
“I’m sure whatever it is can wait.”  
  
Mairon smirked, not even remotely professional. “Have you read the report I gave you?”  
  
Melkor had not. He rolled his eyes and sank back upon the bed, pulling Mairon down with him to straddle his hips.  
  
“As I said, I’m sure it can wait.”  
  
Mairon leaned down to plant a soft kiss on Melkor’s lips. Melkor indulged him for several seconds, parting his lips, sliding his tongue against Mairon’s own in slow, indolent passion. He pulled Mairon closer still, frotting his hardening cock up against him.

Mairon broke away from their kiss, chuckling against Melkor’s lips even as he ground his hips down to match his master’s rhythm. “You’re insatiable.”

Melkor gave a nonchalant shrug in response. Mairon trailed his fingers down Melkor’s chest, deliberately brushing over his nipples, throwing him a wicked smile. Suddenly he grasped Melkor’s wrists and pinned them down to the bed on either side of his head.

“Is this how you would treat your lord, lieutenant?” Melkor asked playfully, making no move to extricate himself from Mairon’s grip.  
  
“My lord doesn’t seem to be complaining,” Mairon retorted, moving his hips so that his own cock glided against the underside of Melkor’s erection, savouring Melkor’s sharp intake of breath.  
  
He released Melkor’s wrists to reach for the vial of oil they had discarded on the bedside table but a short while ago. He poured a liberal amount of oil onto his palm and then took Melkor in hand. He stroked his fingers over Melkor’s cock, coaxing him harder still, taking his time: each pass of his fingers over sensitive flesh light enough to be frustrating.

Melkor indulged his teasing longer than he thought he would, and Mairon _adored_ it: adored each sigh and moan tumbling from Melkor’s lips, adored the tiny movements of his hips as he tried to grind himself against Mairon’s palm and gain more friction.

Eventually Melkor grasped him by the hips, none too gently, and made to manoeuvre him into position.

“Patience, my lord,” Mairon chided, batting his hands away.

Melkor growled low in his throat. Seemingly at a loss as to what to do with his hands, he let them drop from Mairon’s hips to his thighs, absently scratching at the sensitive skin there in thwarted arousal.  
  
Mairon decided not to push his luck any further.  
  
He lined himself up with Melkor’s well-slicked cock, dropping his hips inch by inch as his body adjusted to the stretch, as he took Melkor as deep as he could.

Slowly, experimentally he started to move his hips. He let Melkor’s cock slip out of him a few inches before plunging back down. Melkor tried to choke off a loud moan but couldn’t, and at that Mairon smiled and quickened his pace. Melkor touched him with renewed purpose, one hand coming up to grip over the swell of his arse and the bruises clustered there, while the other found his cock and stroked him so exquisitely that his hips bucked.  
  
Mairon splayed himself wider still, taking Melkor impossibly deep, and the subtly different angle made Melkor’s cock graze against his prostate on every thrust. He tipped his head back in utter delight as those sensations ignited in his belly. He felt Melkor’s eyes on him, hungrily taking him in – and what a view he must be presenting, cheeks flushed with pleasure and hair wild over his shoulders as he fucked himself on his master’s cock and moaned loudly enough to be scandalous.

Mairon caught Melkor’s gaze and held it for long, burning seconds. He slowed down until each rock of his hips on top of his master was gentle, ephemeral. Melkor arched his eyebrows in an unspoken question, and Mairon simply leaned down and pressed his lips to Melkor’s own. Melkor eagerly accepted him, deepening their kiss, throwing himself into it with a violent passion that took Mairon’s breath away. He matched the slow grind of Mairon’s hips with deep thrusts of his own, filling him in ways that should have been _impossible_.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Melkor murmured to him when they both came up for air. It was a tender moment, punctuated by a particularly hard thrust that made Mairon’s eyes roll back into his head. He made a choked little noise against Melkor’s lips, caught somewhere between happiness and paralysing arousal, then hauled himself upright again and slipped back into a more measured rhythm.

It didn’t take long for their breaths to turn into heavy pants, for their touches upon each other to lose their tenderness and become sharp and firm and desperate as pleasure swelled and brimmed until it was nearly spilling over.  
  
Melkor was brutally thrusting up inside of him, pumping his fingers up his length in firm, experienced strokes, and Mairon simply let himself tip back into the maelstrom of those sensations. He came hard despite it being his second orgasm that day, wantonly throwing his head back as he trembled and moaned with the golden, consuming bliss of it. Nothing in the whole world seemed to matter except his master’s eyes on him, the aching fullness of his cock buried deep inside of him.

Eventually his hips stilled atop Melkor and he simply stayed there, breathing hard, savouring the warm afterglow of his climax.  
  
“Enjoyed yourself?” Melkor asked him, releasing his cock to trace gentle patterns over his thighs. Mairon nodded his assent, feeling that words were a little beyond him.

After a few mellowing moments, he realised that Melkor was still hard inside of him. Instinctively he started moving again, but he barely had a chance to find his rhythm before Melkor smoothly flipped him over, pushing his legs wide as he settled himself on top of him.  
  
“Allow me,” Melkor said almost chivalrously, as though he was opening the door for him instead of fucking him so hard that Mairon could do little more than grip about his shoulders and take it.  
  
It couldn’t have taken long for Melkor to reach his peak too, but Mairon lost track of time: Melkor slamming up inside of him, cock gliding over nerves still raw from his orgasm, setting pleasure _shrieking_ through him so intensely that it was almost too much to bear.  
  
Mairon wished that it would stop, he wished that it would never end, he wished that Melkor would sink his fingers through his flesh and grip around his very bones, set them aflame, make him _feel_ until he could barely remember his own name.

All too soon, it was over. Melkor buried his face in the crook of his neck, spilling his seed inside of him with a groan.

They remained joined for long seconds afterwards. Everything seemed to have gone quiet. Mairon’s mind felt fuzzy, still hazy with pleasure, slow to process the outside world.

Eventually Melkor shifted, carefully withdrawing from him to settle himself among the pillows. Mairon flopped onto his side with a groan, looking up at his master, and his cheeks tinged pink when he saw the self-satisfied smirk on Melkor’s lips.  
  
“That was far more fruitful than a meeting, I think,” Melkor said, and Mairon could only shake his head and laugh in mock exasperation.

He couldn’t really argue against that.


End file.
